Today is exceptionally quiet for a Saturday. I am serving food but there is not too much to do as the location of our cafe means that overcast or wet weather affects business, as people will not travel out so far to us because the location is less, um, scenic than on hot clear days. Quiet days bring out the grumps however, and today was no exception. As part of a larger group who all ordered food and drink, we had an old guy order a fish sandwich. It was made, and brought out to him with the rest of the group’s orders. 5 mins later old guy sends it back because ‘I do not eat aioli. Make me another one.’ We in the kitchen wonder out loud if he read the menu properly or if he is just being an old fart. Regardless, kitchen starts assembling another sandwich, I am waiting to take it to the customer, server comes back and same old guy has demanded that we put absolutely no greens in the sandwich either and we should have made it clearer for him that the fish sandwich came with aioli and greens because he DOES NOT eat either. Kitchen makes fish sandwich sans aioli and greens and I take it out to old guy.
‘Thank you,’ he says, ‘but you need to make this clearer on the menu because I am older than you and I did not bring my reading glasses and I do not eat aioli or greens and it was a nasty shock to find my fish sandwich full of both.’ I apologize and inform him that he can ask for ingredients to be left out when he orders, but it was no problem for us to make him another one. ‘I should think not, otherwise you would be hearing from me, and your manager would to.’ I say ‘Okay sir, you have your fish sandwich with no aioli or greens. Is there anything else I can get you?’ He says no, so I leave him and the rest of his group (who look like they are cringing internally) to it.
20 minutes later I go to clear his table. He didn’t even eat half of his sandwich.

Back in the ’80’s, I put an offer on a house for sale, and my offer was accepted. Before closing, I got a panicked call from the seller, something to the effect that I “wouldn’t force them from their home, would I?”
In my state, one needs a lawyer to buy a house. I’ll call mine “Mr. Z.” I called Mr. Z to find out what was going on, and learned that the seller had planned to move to another state and only belatedly discovered he couldn’t get a job there — so wanted out of the deal.
Mr. Z told me it would be a prolonged legal case to force a closing on a now-unwilling seller, so I looked to find a different house. Unfortunately, interest rates were climbing at this time. It only took maybe another month to find (a better) house to buy in my price range, but by then interest rates had climbed nearly 2% — to about 16% per annum!
So I contacted Mr. Z and told him I’d like to pursue a lawsuit against the reneging seller to get him to make up the difference — the extra interest he, in effect, imposed upon me because he scotched the deal. Mr Z. told me to hold off for now because he happened to be pursuing a similar case and it would be better to wait till that case was settled — for the precedent. That made sense, so I did.
Only LATER did I learn that Mr. Z was representing, in that other case, the defendant, not the plaintiff. He was, in effect, working to establish a precedent to thwart my ability to pursue my case against the reneging seller! So I was stuck with an interest rate so high that my principal increased over the course of that loan.
Naturally, I refinanced this loan as soon as rates started dropping again. When I went in to Mr. Z’s office, the first thing he said was, “Boy, they sure screwed you!” It seems that my existing lending institution required a one-month notice — that Mr. Z was to have given them — or they could charge an extra month’s payment on refinancing — $1500 in my case.
I probably turned beet red! (I’ve since learned that others perceive me as a great deal more threatening than I see myself.) I told him in no uncertain terms that I expected HIM to pay that $1500. I let him talk me down to his paying about $800 of it (but I probably should have contacted the Bar association, had I only known).
Needless to say, a few years later, I got a big smile on my face when I read Mr. Z’s obituary in the paper!
BTW, I’m still in the home I bought back then and still like it and the neighborhood.

(My husband and I are leasing our only car for a 3 year contract, and I take it to the dealership for it’s 30,000 mile service. As I’m waiting, I hear someone call my name; it’s a salesman. I reluctantly but politely sit down with him, as I have time to kill anyway.)

Salesman: “So you know that you are over your mile limit on this car?”

Me: “Yes, I’m aware.”

Salesman: “Okay, then, so what are your plans for the car after the lease contract is up?”

Me: “Well, my husband and I are thinking about buying it, but that’s something we have to discuss.”

(As I’m about to get up from my chair, the salesman types something into his computer and looks up at me.)

Salesman: “If I told you that you could have a lower monthly payment, would you still need to talk to your husband?”

Me: *completely flabbergasted* “Um. Yes. Yes, of course I would still need to talk to him.”

(I quickly get up and leave his desk, hoping that maybe he understands that NO, of course I won’t make a major financial decision without my spouse! Jury’s now out on if we want to purchase the car after the lease; we’ll see.)

(My mom and I are walking around the thrift store to find things to sell. They don’t have bags here so you’re supposed to carry everything out on your own. If you have a lot of stuff you can bring a cart out but your supposed to bring it back in. Obviously not everyone does this. My mom walks up to the counter to pay and has a cart load of stuff)

Mom:”Can I bring this cart out with me?”

Worker:”That’s fine, as long as you bring it back.”

Mom:*smiles* “Oh we will! We’re good at bring the carts back”

(While I’m out there I notice all the carts all over the parking lot so I run around, putting all of them in a line and bring them back in. My mom follows me from behind)

Mom:”I told you we were good at bringing the carts back in!”

(The worker thanked me about ten times!)

(I am an archivist at a library that collects oral histories. I am the only one left in the office on a Friday at 4:45PM when I receive a phone call.)

Me: [Name of library], this is [my name].
Them: “Hi, we would like to get an oral history recorded of [person].”
Me: “Oh great!”
Them: “Are there any reasons why we would not be able to do this [range of four days two weeks from now]?”
Me: “Unfortunately, I’m the worst person to ask as I do not do scheduling for oral history recording and no one else is here now. The best thing to do would be to email–”
Them: “No, I don’t have time to email. I need to book my flight now. Is there any reason we couldn’t do it [dates]?”
Me: “Well, like I said, I’m the worst person to ask. I only handle the cataloging of the oral histories. We record at a studio outside the library and I have no idea what their schedule is like–”
Them: “Who do I call there to ask?”
Me: “The scheduling would not be done by the person or their family, we would have to schedule it. Like I said though, there’s no one in the office but me. The assistant will be back in on Monday–”
Them: “There must be someone I can speak to or call. How about [my name]?”
Me: “…that’s me. I’m [my name].”
Them: “Oh. So this is recorded at the film school? Who would I call? I can’t book my flight if we don’t have the dates set!”
Me: “It’s not the film school. Look, we do the scheduling. I’m sorry, but–”
Them: “You can’t help me, got it.” *immediately hangs up*